


illogical lines

by preromantics



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Drabble, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-21
Updated: 2010-07-21
Packaged: 2017-10-10 17:20:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/102193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preromantics/pseuds/preromantics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Spock likes the line of Uhura's back.</i></p><p>For the comment_fic prompt: Star Trek XI, Nyota Uhura/Spock, I stirred in my bed, then I slipped on my dress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	illogical lines

Spock likes the line of Uhura's back -- it's an illogical thing to like, especially considering the many features of her body which are not only fine specimens of her species but also are exciting and beautiful. He just enjoys the line of her back, the gracefulness to her spine when she stands.

He likes her against him in the morning, the way her body has heated up to match the temperature of his own skin wherever they are touching, but if he runs his palm down her arm, feeling, she's cool to the touch.

He likes the way she opens her eyes with hesitation, the way the corner of her mouth turns up in a way he never sees on the bridge or out in the open when she finds him looking down at her, studying her.

("Did you discover anything about me, watching like that?" she had asked, once, stirring to her side, her shoulders rich under the finger he ran down them that made her shiver.

"Everything," he had said, because she made him want to say things like that, non-nonsensical things, one of only two people currently in his life that could make him over-think and not think at all at the same time.

She had smiled, warm, and color had risen to her cheeks like she was pleased and surprised at his answer all at once, so Spock had pressed his lips to the color on her cheeks because he knew she liked that.)

In the morning, or, the equivalent of ship's morning, Spock likes how Uhura bends and stands, that graceful and un-matched line of her spine lengthening as he watches, her skin smooth and liquid with her movements.

He likes watching her as they get dressed together, the way she steps into her dress, barely covered underneath, at least not prescribed to any sense of modesty around him. He can watch the way her body slowly awakens and stretches as her mind clears, a routine that is so different from his own -- waking up, alert, meditating and then taking the time to slip back into the bed to watch her with a clear mind.

"Good morning," she will say, even though it's not morning, just time for their shifts on the bridge.

"Indeed," Spock will return, because waking up to her and the line of her spine and the way her hair falls on the pillow will always bring about a good morning.


End file.
